


I need to debrief you

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Covert Operation, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tasha and Phil are assigned to keep Tony from breaking perimeter in Iron Man 2. Unlike Tony, their minds are not exactly on task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I need to debrief you

**Author's Note:**

> Requested over on the avengerkink comm on LJ: "Coulson/Natasha relationship."

"Enjoy your evening's entertainment," says Phil to Tony Stark, who obviously thinks the agent is having way too much fun at his expense. Little does he know that Phil will soon be having far more fun at the expense of the American taxpayer.

Phil makes his exit and goes down the stairs to the pool level, out of Stark's line of sight, and heads for the changing room in a small cabana separate from the main house. As if by magic, the door slides open just enough for him to slip through, then closes after him.

"Before you ask," says Tasha, "yes, I have the scrambler on, and you and I are the only two assigned here, and Fury has left the premises."

Phil's hands are already on her hips, his lapels in her grasp, and their bodies slam together, shoulder to knee.

"How long?" he mutters, his lips hovering next to her ear, ready to strike.

"At least an hour until check-in," she whispers. 

"So, no rush."

"Want to bet?"

His tongue flicks the shell of her ear and she sucks in a breath, almost silently, and tilts her head so he can lick a line down her throat.

"I think I can feel your nipples through my suit," he observes. His teeth catch hold of the zip on her catsuit and tug it down partway as she leans back with her arms around his neck.

Tasha can certainly feel his cock under his suit; she eases one leg between his thighs, hooks the other over his hip, and he grabs her ass and lifts her onto the low cupboard where spare towels are kept.

He raises his head so their mouths are on the same level and drags open lips over her cheekbone to seal them over hers. She's busy with his jacket. Together they get it off and Phil throws it on the countertop, undoing his belt while his hands are free.

"Gimme," Tasha orders and smacks his hands away. He uses them to tweak her (yes, they're hard all right) nipples through the catsuit and she growls at him, but she's got his belt undone and is making short work of his fly.

When she pushes at his pants he grabs her hands so that they don't fall very far, his cock poking up untouched out of his boxers. 

"I said, no rush," he reminds her when she moans, very softly. He holds her wrists away from her body and slightly behind, so that she leans back and her breasts are thrust forward. Once again his teeth work her zipper, this time getting it down far enough that the tension of the fabric across her cleavage assists in baring her chest.

"No bra," he notes. "I thought so. It'd make too much noise for me to discipline you here, Agent Romanov. You and I will attend to that later."

That will give her something to look forward to, he thinks, and time for him to consider the manner of her chastisement.

Tasha tips her head back and shimmies, forcing the edges of her suit front to part even further, so he lowers his head to nuzzle it aside and latches onto a nipple as it springs out of hiding. Her whole body stiffens and spasms with pleasure. 

"If I let go of your hands, will you be good and leave them here?" he mumbles around a mouthful of her breast.

"Oh, God, yes," Tasha breathes and leans back on her hands as he releases her wrists. Without removing his mouth, he scoops her other breast out of her suit and palms and rubs while she tries to breathe.

He switches hand and mouth and continues making love to her breasts, and in between he murmurs.

"So sensitive, so hot...you taste so good, Tasha...been wanting to bite you through this damn catsuit all day..."

"Bite me, where," she pants, imagining.

"Starting with your tits," Phil says against her mouth. His thumbs are on her nipples now. "Moving up to your neck. Leaving a big fucking hickey on the back so your hair hangs over it and only we know it's there..."

She sits up just enough to struggle out of the top of the suit, unzipping it the rest of the way, then leans back again while his hands spread over her backbone, pulling her oversensitive breasts against his shirt and tie and he goes on talking.

"I'll teach you not to swing your hips around in front of Tony fucking Stark, not while I'm on duty," he hisses. "I'd like to turn you over and spank your tight little ass, and then lean over and bite it, and then pull down your suit and spank you some more."

His hands squeeze her butt and then yank down on the suit, peeling it down around her calves.

"No panties, either," he sighs. "Agent Romanov, I'm afraid there's only one course of action to pursue here."

"Does it involve fucking me into next week?" she purrs, pulling a towel off a pile nearby and shoving it under her backside for comfort.

Phil's hands slide off her reluctantly. He gives her his best, "I'm disappointed in you, Agent" expression and pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees.

"I'm afraid so, Agent."

"And in the event there are multiple offenses?"

He throws another towel on the floor and kneels on it, between her legs, and smirks up at her.

"Multiple - " he licks the cleft between her outer lips, " - penalties."

He plunges his tongue into her, tasting her soft wet flesh, teasing and prodding and sucking and feeling her writhing and trying not to scream. When he glances up, her eyes are closed and she has one hand over her mouth, groaning against it as she comes, and comes, and comes.

When she clamps her thighs around his head it's his signal to let up or be flipped over (he can't watch her work out without getting hard when she does that to an opponent), so he stands and she scoots forward, right to the edge of the cupboard, and takes hold of his cock to guide him in.

He doesn't thrust in right away, but eases in and out of her in shallow, smooth movements, the friction over her still-throbbing sex making her shudder and grab at his shoulders.

"Fuck, Phil," she moans. "There's a time and a place for being a tease."

"You would know, wouldn't you," he murmurs, and she grins and plants her mouth on his, licks and sucks while he rocks in and out and finally all the way in, almost all the way out, deep strokes, his fingers digging into her ass, her hands fondling her own tits.

When he comes she muffles his groan with her mouth and he holds onto her for a bit while she brings herself off again, silently.

Phil collects his thoughts and his clothing and asks, "Time?"

"Twenty minutes," she replies, calmly zipping the suit back up and hopping down off the cupboard. She folds the towel she was sitting on and replaces it neatly on the pile; Phil rolls up the towel from the floor and tosses it loosely on top of the pile.

Tasha turns the scrambler off and Phil checks outside through a cracked door. Straightening his tie, he says, "Thank you for your report, Agent Romanov."

She smirks and leans in close, not quite touching him, and murmurs in his ear, "I'll be walking around the rest of this shift dripping with your come in me. How's that for a report, Agent Coulson?"

"Hmm," he replies thoughtfully as they step out into the California sunshine. "You'll have to debrief me later on that."


End file.
